Chapter 18 Giovanni #2
“Thank you, Mr. Sabatelli.” He wants to say more, but Bruno’s presence is perhaps a little intimidating, and he doesn’t want to be seen to be sucking ass. “So, how can I help you?”
“Nikki Marshall.”
He furrows his brow.
“The waitress. Arthur Bello’s love interest.” I wait for him to catch up before I continue. “I want to know who she is close to on set.”
He blinks furiously while he tries to produce the kind of response he thinks I want to hear. “I don’t get involved much with the actors behind the scenes.” He swallows. “She and Arthur seem to get along.”
“How well would you say they get along?”
He nods while releasing a heavy sigh. “They’re not romantically connected if that’s what you’re thinking. Arthur is married. Very happily so.”
“Go on.”
“You want to know who she’s been hooking up with? Is there a problem?”
“You could say that.”
I hear the bones in Bruno’s neck clicking behind me as he twists his head from side to side. Owen hears it too.
“Are you… I mean is she being replaced?” He’s already working out where that leaves him with re-shooting Nikki’s scenes.
“I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
“She’s a bit of an outsider.” He licks his lips. He knows I want more. “She and Arthur seem to hang out off-set a lot… But I’ve heard a rumor.”
My pulse picks up. I wait for him to elaborate.
“Don’t quote me on this, but I think she’s secretly been hooking up with an actor who would prefer it if his indiscretions remained hidden.”
“He’s married?”
Owen’s mouth twists to one side. “Close. Some say it’s a publicity stunt, you know, to draw the crowds in and earn blockbuster status on their next movie. Either way, I’ve heard that he and Nikki have been meeting up in disguise. They’re actors. It’s what they do.”
I smile. “I need a name, Owen.” He hesitates. “It won’t go any further than this trailer, you have my word on it.”
Finally, he gives me what I’ve been waiting for.
“Tommy Romano.”
Tracking down a rising star is like following a trail of golden breadcrumbs.
Tommy Romano has it all: the classic good looks, the stature, the charisma. And a stunning co-star on his arm. He’s all set to become one of Hollywood’s highest paid actors over the next five years if all goes to plan and he doesn’t fuck up along the way.
If.
As far as I’m concerned, Tommy Romano has already made his first huge mistake.
Fortunately for me, he’s currently filming in Hollywood’s Paramount studio.
The security guard tries to block me from entering until he’s rewarded with a glimpse of Bruno’s holster and a wad of cash. He still avoids making eye contact as he points me in the right direction.
This studio is busier than mine; it has had a lot of cash thrown at it over the years. A lot of Hollywood stars too. We wait for the scene to finish and for the director to yell, “Cut!” before we approach Tommy.
He checks out my suit, his eyes lingering a beat too long on my bodyguard. A makeup assistant comes over, and he dismisses her with a wave of his tanned hand.
I extend my hand in a formal greeting and introduce myself.
“How can I help, Mr. Sabatelli?”
I smile. “Tell me about Nikki Marshall.”
His eyes dart all around to check if anyone is listening. Several people turn away and pretend to be busy doing something else.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know who you mean.”
“Oh.” I feign surprise by raising an eyebrow. “So, you haven’t been meeting up with her in secret?”
I barely finish before he bolts for the exit.
We don’t chase him.
Bruno has already arranged for some of his team to guard the exits, and by the time we find Tommy pinned down by two burly men with biceps the size of watermelons, he is willing to talk.
He sits in the back seat of my car with his wrists bound and glares at me, as Bruno trains his pistol at the actor’s temple from the front passenger seat. The windows are tinted. No one watches us drive away with Tommy Romano, no one questions where we are going.
“Why did you visit the Pink Palace Motel with Nikki Marshall two days ago?”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
The trigger of Bruno’s gun clicks beneath his forefinger.
Tommy’s answer changes. “I’ve never heard of the Pink Palace Motel.”
“Let me jog your memory.”
I slide the defaced photograph from my pocket and show it to him. His eyes linger on the image, but he doesn’t speak.
“Do you know the people in this picture?” I pretend to study it myself. “It’s impossible to see their faces because some fucking bastardo scratched them out as a prank, but I’m guessing there’s a perfectly acceptable explanation for this.”
“I didn’t do it.”
The bullet from Bruno’s gun grazes the tip of Tommy Romano’s right ear before it hits the backseat.
“You were saying.”
Blood trickles from the damaged flesh, down the side of Tommy’s face and onto his shirt. “Look, I had no choice, alright? If I didn’t do it…”
“I’m listening.”
“I’d have been a fucking goner. Is that what you want to hear?” For a guy with a gun pointed at his head, he has a whole lot of attitude bunched up around his shoulders. Too much attitude some might say.
“What I want to hear is you telling me that you’re not working for The Fish.”
Silence.
It would give me great pleasure to take Bruno’s gun and shoot Tommy Romano straight through the skull myself but killing him without answers isn’t going to save my Meggie and Amber.
I cup my ear. “I don’t hear you.”
“The Fish made a little problem disappear for me a while back. It was before I came to LA. Before my career started to take off. Ever since then, well, I’ve been waiting for him to call in the favor, and this was it.” His eyes flicker to the photograph.
“Problem?” The guy fucking owes me.
“I accidentally killed a man in Italy. We were on vacation in Puglia. He was hitting on my girl, and I lost it.”
“Doesn’t sound like an accident to me. Sounds like you got angry, started a fight, and went too far.”
Tommy shrugs. Yep, a shitload of fucking attitude.
“What was Nikki’s role in this favor?”
“I needed her to look like her friend so that no one questioned me being in her room.”
I grind my back teeth. “It must’ve taken some persuasion to get her to agree.”
“Nah, she was easy meat. She’ll do anything for fame and fortune.” He snickers, and there’s no mirth in the sound. “Shower a woman like that with some attention and they’ll do anything. I don’t even like her.”
My fist connects with his jaw before I can stop myself.
The car screeches to a halt. Bruno drags Tommy Romano out of the backseat and deposits him at the side of the road. He’s still yelling at us, his wrists bound, as we drive away.
My phone vibrates. I check the Caller ID and flex my sore fingers when I see Ric’s name.
“We have a problem, boss. The shark is still biting.”